


Never Quite Settled

by papesdontsellthemselves



Series: Greaser AU [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, yeehaw i love this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:25:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: “I’m not an idiot!” Race shouted, arms flying to his sides and hands clenching into fists, “An’ I’m not a kid either!”"Then stop acting like one!"





	1. Soaker's are in for a Soakin'

**Author's Note:**

> tw: past suicide attempt

Race was running. Wind swept through his hair and pushed against his face, causing involuntary tears to well up as his eyes dried out. His lungs and legs burned, muscles straining as he pushed himself to go faster. He was sure to be sore tomorrow, but it didn’t matter right now. All that mattered right now was escaping.

He grinned, lifting Bumlet’s letterman jacket tauntingly above his head as angry shouts rang out behind him. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it couldn’t be anything kind. He spared a glance over his shoulder as he rounded a corner, steadily approaching the West Side, near Spot’s house. The group of Socs he’d previously been tormenting were a good chunk of pavement behind him, putting him at a clear advantage. Already, there seemed to be less boys than there’d been when they first started chasing him down.

Pussies, Race thought to himself, scoffing when the unmistakable sound of someone tripping, followed by a pained yell rose through the air.

The last rumble had done little to remedy the rivalry between the Greasers and the Socs- though Race had hoped stabbing himself, and subsequently driving Spot to do the same, might have been a shock enough to restore some morals. The Greasers had been quick to accept- or at least tolerate- Spot and Race’s relationship, and had even started to assimilate Spot back into their groups since he was shunned from his own back on the West Side. But the same couldn’t be said for Race and the Socs. The taunting had persisted, if not grown more intense. Although, if Race was utterly honest with himself, he did most of the provoking. Could anyone blame him, though? The Socs were easy to get a rise out of. 

He spotted a familiar figure down the road, joy at the sight bubbling in his stomach as he approached. The figure looked up, eyes widening as he took in the sight of Race running, letterman jacket in hand and five or so Socs on his tail.

“Race, what-” Spot froze, looking bewildered.

“No time ta talk, Spottie-boy, c’mon!” Race reached out, grabbing Spot’s hand and dragging him along, keeping tight hold of him until he found his footing. 

“The fuck didya do!?” Spot demanded, though he sounded fairly amused.

Race jerked his head, indicating for Spot to follow him around another turn, “Bumlets was botherin’ me boutcha, so I tolds him that if he liked the hickeys I gave ta ya, I could let him in on the treat.”

Spot barked out a laugh, “How’d ya get his jacket?” he asked, effortlessly stripping out of his sweater and tossing it to the side as they continued to run. Race never understood his insistence to wear wool, even in Summer.

Race shrugged, “Dunno, really. Think he tried ta strip down ta fight an’ I snatched it an’ ran.”

Spot shook his head, checking behind them to see that only Bumlets and Itey were persisting at this point, “You’s an idiot, Racer.”

Race flashed an even wider grin at him, barreling towards the East Side, away from the Soc’s side of town and into his own. Race chuckled to himself, trying to picture what a sight they must be. Him holding Bumlet’s jacket, Spot shirtless, Bumlets and Itey struggling to keep up behind them. It was a scene straight from a movie.

They passed the Kasprzak’s, where Elmer and Finch could be seen in the driveway, kicking around a can with bare feet. They looked up, confused frowns flitting across their faces as Race passed.

“Heya, fellas!” Race called, waving the jacket at them as Spot saluted them awkwardly while still running, earning perplexed waves in return.

They ran for a bit longer, nearing the Morris’ household. Race ducked down a bit, preparing himself to speed up, when he noticed Spot slowing down. He turned around, about to throw a teasing remark towards the other boy, but frowned when he saw Spot’s warning look.

Before he could call out, a hand grabbed the back of his collar and Race skidded, stumbling a few feet before ultimately losing balance and crashing onto the sidewalk. But before he could hit the ground, the arm grabbed his bicep, straightening him up.

He panted, wheezing to catch his breath as the adrenaline faded out of his system. He lifted his head to see Jack, hands still braced on his shoulders and a scolding look in his eye. Race swallowed, face growing red as Bumlets and Itey finally caught up, also freezing when they saw Jack. 

After the rumble, no one dared to mess with Race in Jack or Albert’s presence, knowing too well that they would not leave the scene unscathed. Race hated it. Since the confrontation, he’d been treated as nothing short of glass within his own home. He knew that Jack and Albert were acting out of nothing but fear and concern for him- he’d willingly stabbed himself in the stomach, after all- but it didn’t mean he was going to shatter at any moment. It annoyed him. He was barely left alone and Jack was constantly fussing over any injuries he acquired, demanding to know where they came from and what situation he’d been in. He knew he scared the shit out of them, but he wasn’t a kid. He could handle himself.

Race ground his teeth, holding eye contact with Jack as he was studied with a careful and worried eye. Then Jack sighed, letting up his grip on Race’s shoulders and holding out an expectant hand. Reluctantly, Race handed him Bumlet’s jacket.

Jack took it from him, eyes still boring into his skull as he tossed it to its owner.

“Outta here,” he barked. Bumlets scrambled to catch his jacket, then grabbed Itey’s elbow, pulling him away from the scene.

Spot scuffed his toe on the dusty pavement, lingering awkwardly. Jack sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing Race to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You too, Conlon,” he said, though he almost looked regretful, as if he hadn’t minded Spot’s company. Or he was afraid to keep Race and him apart. The latter seemed more likely.

Spot nodded once, flashing Race an apologetic smile before turning and bolting off towards the West Side again. Race watched him go, stomach twisting sadly. He had been looking forward to an adrenaline driven night with him.

“C’mon, kid,” Jack mumbled, ushering Race back in the direction of their house. Race followed him begrudgingly, knowing that he was about to get an earful. Jack never liked his careless ways and taste for troubles, but his enforcement of these worries had been at an all time high lately. 

Race rubbed his hand over the scar on his stomach through his shirt, eyes cast downwards as he followed Jack down the road. He was vaguely reminded of the months following their father’s drunken disappearance, when the weight of his past abuses finally crashed down around them. Race had hit rock bottom, the trauma catching up to him and eventually leading him to their dingy garage, rope secured around his neck and trembling legs itching to step off the chair. Jack had found him like that, sobbing and shaking. He had gently coaxed him down, wordlessly helping him back inside. They never really spoke of that incident, but it had been ages before Jack trusted him alone.

And yet, he’d managed to lose the independence he’d worked so hard to regain. Classic.

They made it to the house in silence, entering to find Albert sitting on the couch, a bowl of corn flakes balanced on his lap. He looked up when they entered, about to call out a greeting, but quickly shutting his mouth when he took in Race’s red, sweaty face and Jack’s irritated stature. Jack turned to confront Race, the disappointed look still evident in the dull shadows in his eyes and mouth pulled into a grimace. 

He crossed his arms, “Didya start this one?”

Race pursed his lips, averting his gaze as he shook his head, “Nah, jus’ finished it.”

Jack huffed, “Don’ go gettin’ all prouda yourself,” he said, reproachfully, “S’dangerous ya know.”

Race rolled his eyes, starting to cop an attitude, “They’s jus’ Socs, most are weak as hell,” Race shifted, crossing his arms as well, “‘Sides, I had it handled. Was jus’ a joke.”

Albert grinned cheekily, “Ooo, who’d ya soak this time, Racer?”

Race’s eyes glinted as he started to answer Albert, but Jack cut him off.

“He didn’t soak nobody,” Jack said, retreating back to the root of the issue, “What’d they do ta start it.”

Race sagged his shoulders in annoyance. He hated this kind of interrogation. He should be allowed some privacy in his personal battles.

“He were jus’ teasin’ me about Spot n’ bein’ queer n’ alla that,” he said, a pit of defiance forming in his stomach at Jack’s angry face, “I was fine, Jackie! I jus’ spat some shit back an’ then caught ‘im off guard. I won.”

Jack clenched his jaw, “It ain’t about winnin’, Racer. They shouldn’t still be sayin’ that shit to ya.”

Race hugged his arms tighter around himself, “Didn’t bother me none,” he lied. In truth, it had stung. He still hated the fact that he was cursed with this shit. Why couldn’t he like girls like all the other boys in town? Why did he have to be the queer one? He had enough stresses already and to be constantly reminded of this hit like a ton of bricks.

Jack scoffed, “Okay, sure.”

Race straightened his back, “It didn’t! I don’t give a shit about what they say or what they’re thinkin’! They-”

“-They drove ya ta stab yourself, Antonio.”

Race paled, snapping his mouth shut. 

“An’ I don’t care if ya think you’re capable ta handle whatever shit they’re playin’ at-”

“-I am!”

Jack held up a hand, “The point is it could turn ugly again one day and I don’t wanna have another close call,” he sighed, “Two’s more ‘an enough.”

Race’s heart started to beat faster, shocked that Jack had openly acknowledged what had almost happened. He heard Albert drop his spoon and tried to look anywhere but his younger brother’s wide eyes. Jack’s worry was one thing, but Albert’s was on another tier. He still felt guilty for scarring Albert, ashamed that he’d put him through that. He had enough shit to deal with, he didn’t need to fuss over Race as well. 

Shame bubbled in his chest, quickly morphing into embarrassed anger, “Dontcha dare go there right now-”

“No! I’m tireda leavin’ that shit under the surface!” Jack snapped, “Ya scare me enough, kid, an’ then ya go out and pick stupid fights like an idiot-”

“I’m not an idiot!” Race shouted, arms flying to his sides and hands clenching into fists, “An’ I’m not a kid either!”

“Then stop acting like one!” Jack bellowed, raising an arm in frustration.

Race flinched violently, jarred by the sudden movement. The volume of Jack’s voice echoed through his mind, resurfacing memories he’d rather forget. He took an involuntary step backwards, eyes squeezed shut as he waited for a blow. Logically, he knew it was just Jack standing in front of him and that he would never hurt him, but his body didn’t seem to be listening. He whimpered as his breath left his body.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Albert had gone completely still on the couch, eyes flicking wildly between his brothers. Jack froze, staring at Race’s trembling form in shock for a moment, before seemingly becoming aware of himself and lowering his arm carefully.

Race fought back panicked, hurt tears as he opened his eyes, “What the fuck.”

Jack looked sick with himself, “Racer-”

Race shook his head, “No, fuck you,” he choked out, hesitating for another moment before turning and bolting out of the door.

Jack deflated as he watched the door close, “Damnit.”


	2. Trapped Where There Ain’t No Future, Even At 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw some healing

Spot sat back against his pillows, allowing his eyes to droop shut as he rested his head against the headboard. Math sucked. He didn’t understand it and it was nothing short of unfair for the teachers to assign so many problems for homework when they’d barely explained it during class. He could go in for extra help, but his teacher, Mr. Cratsley-Gimmelfarb, was about as intimidating as his name, so that was off the table. 

Spot sighed, reaching up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He could feel a tension headache niggling between his eyes and a distant longing for Race entered his mind. Race was usually good at math. If he were there, maybe he could help him understand his homework and then they could cuddle afterwards. Or makeout. Spot was honestly up for either.

A loud knock at his window brought Spot out of his reverie and he opened his eyes, wincing at the light in his room. He turned his head towards his window, a small spark of hope igniting in him. Maybe his prayers had been answered and Race had magically appeared at his house, wide smile ready to help him.

He highly doubted it, though. Race was most likely in trouble with Jack at the moment. Jack had seemed pretty ticked off when he’d caught them running from Bumlets and Itey that afternoon. There was no way Race would have been allowed to leave the house.

He pulled himself off his bed, taking a moment to draw back the curtains before looking out the window. A grin spread across his face as he realized that it was, indeed, Race outside. But the grin quickly faded when he noticed the splotchy tears that stained his face.

He immediately opened his window, reaching out a hand to help Race inside.

“What happened, are ya hurt? Do ya need a doctor?” Spot was fussing over Race the moment they were sat on his bed, but Race weakly pushed him away.

“Ah fuck, not you, too,” Race groaned.

Spot frowned, “Whatcha mean?”

Race scrubbed a hand down his face, “‘M jus’...” he took a breath, “‘M sick a’ everyone thinkin’ m’ incapable...or like, weak or sum’.”

“Did Jack say somethin’?” Spot pushed.

Race shrugged, “Kinda, I mean, yeah,” he fiddled with his fingers uncomfortably, “He jus’, he still treats me like the troubled kid who couldn’t handle when shit went south and I guess I didn’t help matters much by stabbin’ myself and jus’,” he clenched his fingers, defiantly biting out, “‘M not a kid.”

Spot digested his words, mulling over his own thoughts for a moment, “‘Course ya ain’t a kid, Racer. You’se one a’ the strongest people I know-”

Race scoffed and Spot hastily shut his mouth, “What?”

“I don’t wanna hear none of that shit either,” Race said, “Makes me feel,” he let out a frustrated noise, gesturing in front of him, “uncomfortable I guess? Like, you’re overcompensatin’ by sayin’ I’m strong. I don’t needa hear it, I jus’ wanna be treated my age….normal.”

Spot nodded, “Aight,” he paused for a moment, “Why were ya cryin’?”

Race bit his lip, discomfort radiating off of him in waves, “Jack got mad,” he mumbled, “An’ he shouted a bit an’ raised his arm like…yeah, an’ I got spooked. S’why I came here. Kinda. I also jus’ wanted ta get away for a sec.” 

Spot winced, picturing the situation, “You okay now?”

“Yeah,” Race waved a hand dismissively, “m’aight.”

“Listen,” Race looked at Spot expectantly, “M’not the best with this kinda thing, either, but maybe you should talk ta Jack ‘bout this? Tell him whatcha told me?”

Race leaned sideways against Spot’s pillows, pursing his lips, “I dunno, prob’ly won’t listen.”

“Worth a shot, though,” Spot reasoned.

“Yeah, I guess,” Race mumbled. They lapsed into silence and Race looked around awkwardly, spotting Spot’s math homework. He rolled his shoulders, regaining his cocky composure, “Need help with this?” he asked.

Spot blinked, wiping away his own worries, “Yeah,” he said, leaning over, “I don’t get it.”

Race smiled softly, pulling the textbook towards himself, “Aight, lemme take a look.”

XXX

Jack stared at the place Race had been a moment before, the echo of the door slamming replaying in his head. Shame bubbled in his gut and he mentally scolded himself for losing it. He wasn’t going to hit Race. He would never. But he could imagine how his actions looked from Race’s perspective.

He would have been freaked out, too.

He hung his head, sighing. This wasn’t going how he’d wanted it to, but that goddamn kid never learned. 

“You fucked up.”

Jack resisted the urge to snap at his younger brother’s words.

“I know,” He said, “I know, I- yeah.”

“Like,” Albert stood, clearing his cereal bowl to the kitchen, “you really fucked up.”

Jack finally moved from where he stood, guilt weighing down his steps, “I know, Al. Ya ain’t helpin’ no one by statin’ the obvious.” He sank down onto the couch, dropping his head into his hands.

He felt the cushions sink beside him, but the air remained silent and thick between him and Albert.

“I jus’,” He ran his hands through his hair, sitting back up, “I wish I understood him, I wish I could get through ta him, but he’s so goddamn stubborn and impulsive that it don’t matter what I say. He’s always gonna end up on the short end of shit.”

Albert looked thoughtful, fingers tapping idly on the arm of the couch next to him, “I mean, could be jus’ me thinkin’ things, but maybe it’d help your case if ya didn’t treat ‘im like one of those ‘handle with care’ packages.”

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, looking for the first time at Albert, “What d’ya mean.”

Albert shrugged, looking a little out of his depth, “I mean, I know you’re scared an’ all. I am, too. But, he’s right. He ain’t a kid no more an’ I know he ain’t got the best track record on the whole safety front, but he can handle himself.”

Jack allowed his words to sink in, “I don’t doubt that he can-”

“Ya kinda do,” Albert cut him off, “I jus’ think he’d be a little more open to listenin’ to you and sharin’ shit if ya didn’t freak out at everythin’.”

Jack let out a resigned sigh. Albert was right, he did need to trust Race a little more, but it was so hard when the prospect of losing him was so present so often. He couldn’t stand it if anything were to happen to him. He wish he’d known about Spot before the rumble, he wish he’d had the chance to be there for him; help him somehow. But Race needed to let him in on his troubles in order for that to happen and looking back, Jack hadn’t necessarily created the best environment for that.

“You’re right,” he admitted after a long moment, “I needa trust ‘im more an’ fuss less.”

“Bingo,” Albert snapped.

“I should find him and talk ta him” He started to stand up, but Albert reached out a hand to stop him.

“No,” Albert said firmly, “let him come ta you.”

Jack let out a shaky breath, sitting back down, “Okay.”

XXX

Race didn’t return until nearly midnight. He tried to sneak back in through the kitchen window, but Jack was still awake on the couch, waiting for him. Race made it as far as the stairs before Jack’s tired voice froze him in place.

“Hang on a sec,” Jack called, closing the newspaper he’d been reading and tossing it onto the ground, “C’mere, I wanna talk ta ya.”

Race rolled his eyes, dragging his feet as he walked over, “If you’re jus’ gonna chew me out for runnin’ out earlier, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Nah, m’not gonna do that,” Jack pat the couch next to him and Race reluctantly sat down, “Jus’ listen for a minute, canya do that?”

Race shrugged, “Sure,” he sounded entirely uninterested and wholly pissed. Jack couldn’t blame him.

“So, uh,” Jack steeled himself, “I was thinkin’ bout a lotta things an’...I owe you an apology.”

Race cocked his head, surprised, “ya what?”

Jack looked at him, holding eye contact, “I’m sorry for treatin’ ya the way I did, Racer. I know you ain’t a kid and I know you can do things for yourself I jus’ worry, aight? And I can’t help that none, but that ain’t an excuse ta make ya feel bad, so I’m sorry,” when Race said nothing, he continued, “It’s jus’ that you an’ Al are all I got and if something were to really happen to ya, I don’t think I could live with myself. I meant it earlier when I said two close calls are more than enough,” he held up a hand when Race opened his mouth angrily, “and I know you ain’t like talkin’ about what happened in the garage, I’m not sayin’ we ever really gotta, but ya gotta swear ta me you’ll be more careful. I won’t push ya none anymore, but ya gotta tell me when you’re in hot water an’ I know what happened earlier was jus’ roughhousin’, but what happened at the rumble wasn’t.”

Race opened and closed his mouth several times before looking away, blinking rapidly. Then, all at once, his face crumpled, tears forcing their way out of his eyes. 

“‘M sorry,” he choked, drawing his knees up to his chest, making him look younger, “I know I freak ya out too much an’ I know I don’t pick the best fights or make the best decisions, I jus’,” he took a moment to breathe, “I’m scared I think? Like, shit in my head gets so loud sometimes and I jus’ needa kill the energy somehow, so I sneak off with Spottie or fuck shit up with the Socs. It don’t do much, but it distracts me from the scary stuff and...I’m scared of what happens when I’m not distracted.”

Jack’s heart seemed to shatter in his chest, but he kept his face neutral, adhering to his promise of not overreacting, “Thank ya for tellin’ me that, kid,” he opened his arms, allowing Race to lean into him, “An’ we’re gonna figure this all out, okay? We’s family, I ain’t gonna letcha be alone with the scary stuff.”

Race nodded against his neck and pulled away, wiping at his face, “Okay.”

Jack reached out, tapping his chin, “Lookit me, kid,” Race looked up, sniffing, “I love ya, okay? I’ve gotcha.”

Race nodded, “I love ya, too.”

Jack clapped his shoulder lightly, “Aight, it’s still a school night. Go on upstairs and get some sleep while ya can,” he paused, watching as Race stood to climb the stairs, “An’ I hope you don’t got homework.”

Race rolled his eyes, “I don’t,” he gave a small wave, “Love ya, Jackie, goodnight.”

Jack smiled, “Goodnight.”

He waited until he heard Race’s bedroom door close, then sat back against the couch. Things were still far from calm in their little family, but everyone was there and everyone was safe. And that’s what mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i love this au  
> also feedback keeps me goin so yeehaw


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